The Impossible

5

15th May, 2016, Richmond, Madison County, Kentucky. 0917 hrs.

It's his birthday, and Eggsy's crouched behind a lab desk, furiously reloading his assault rifle whilst bullets spray the wall in front of him. Spinning around to crouch, Eggsy points the nose of the rifle over the edge of the desk. A few quick, precise shots send the mercs firing on him to the floor, unmoving.

The siege is going as planned, which is a good sign, Eggsy thinks as he exits the now empty lab, wiping a dribble of blood from his mouth on his sleeve. Well, really, it's an orchestrated fuck-shit-up fest, so as long as shit is being fucked up. Namely the security defenses and the armed mercs, that your average pharmaceutical company like Phantom definitely hires to protect their completely legal experiments. Bollocks.

Phantom were fairly unprepared for the ambush. Or rather as unprepared as a business can be for multiple heavily armed SUV's and two Apache helicopters to come roaring down their driveway, smack bang in the middle of the conveniently named Richmond's agricultural district. That being said, a massive fucking warehouse in the middle of acres of green fields already stuck out like a sore thumb, so what's a bit of extra enemy firepower?

Now, 17 minutes in, Eggsy, with the help of Roxy, Rob, agents Bors and Lamorak, as well as a sizeable portion of Merlin's handling squad had so far broken through the front-facing warehouse wall with a rocket. Yes, a fucking rocket, because innocent looking warehouses aren't always so! Then, the handlers had set the 5 knights loose inside the warehouse, who then proceeded to well and truly do their jobs. The sounds of gunfire, shouts and whirring helicopter blades provide a fitting soundtrack, because to be quite honest, Eggsy is feeling rather fucking murderous.

How had Harry worded it in The Black Prince when he floored Rottweiler and the rest of Dean's boyband? Ah yes, 'needed to let off a bit of steam'. Well Eggsy's got a fucking pressure cooker's worth to let off, thanks. It's like his limbs and reflexes have worked of their own accord, muscle memory making him shoot, reload, break bones, spill blood as Kingsman stormed room after room under the handlers' direction. Level after level of the place where Harry had been, for fucking months-

He bypasses a room with what looks like a dentist's chair, mercifully empty, debris strewn everywhere. Well it would be a dentist's chair if there weren't straps to hold a body down.

Had Harry been given the freedom to walk around, in his time here? How long had passed since he'd seen sunlight? A month? Three? Where did they keep him? The warehouse had multiple underground floors, and so far Kingsman had only infiltrated the first one- how far below had they kept Harry, Eggsy wondered, a fresh pang of anger stinging his gut.

This is killing him, literally killing him. Because every moment he thinks about Harry in the field is a distraction, a distraction that could be deadly, because if Eggsy's too caught up thinking about the man who he was pretty fucking certain had been just about to confess his love for him, who'd been through what looked like hell and back in the past year just like he himself had, how can he focus on the here and now? How can he focus when everywhere he looks inside this stinking, corrugated iron and glass hell-hole, is a reminder of how much Harry had been through? Of how much he had lost?

The voice of his handler for this op, Audrey, rings in his ear, and Eggsy's back, murderousness reinvigorated. "1 heat signature to your left, Gawain, incoming in 3, 2-"

Another armed enemy rounds the corner and into the hallway, and Eggsy slams the butt of his gun into the man's face, making him fall senseless to the ground. He will show them no mercy. Fuck this shit, if Merlin's got a problem with it he can bloody take it up Eggsy later- the ops coordinator should've known he was looking to roll a few heads anyway, the man wasn't stupid.